Today was the last soccer game of the season for the yellow team aka the Golden Hawks. The Yellow Lemonades, who lost every single game last season, were back with a new attitude and a new name—so much promise! Week after week, we watched the Hawks get trampled. By the end of the season, they lost six games and tied one. However, we weren’t just losing on the field, we were also losing the soccer mom game. When the rival Orange Crush came to the field in matching logoed sweatshirts, we knew something had to change.

One of my favorite mom friends texted me…. “oh it’s on.”

“Yeah! It’s SO on!” I responded, not even knowing what we were talking about.

The next text was a link to some crazy hair bows I hadn’t seen since the 90s. All yellow and black, adorned with soccer balls.

“You down?” She asked. (Yes, we always use cool-mom lingo when we text).

Before I knew it she was at the craft store sending me pictures of different ribbon options. I tried to play it cool, swiftly responding about which ribbons would go best together.

I have strong, intelligent opinions on this.

“I’ll split these up and drop off your half.”

Pump. The. Breaks.

Has she met me?? I’d clearly taken my cool-mom act too far because this woman thought I was going to MAKE these funky 90s hair ribbons for the final game. I did what any faker does best and called all of my crafty friends to see who could come over and make the hair ribbons for me. Everyone was busy! I’d have to attempt this project myself.

First, cut the ribbon.

Next, use a hot glue gun to connect them in a zig-zag pattern. I plugged in the hot glue gun and realized I’d never used one before. I FaceTimed the mom I borrowed it from so she could explain the mystery contraption every crafter swears by.

Zig-zag pattern done. Now sew the ribbons to a rubber band.

At this point, I decided to look on Etsy and try to get some of these things overnighted at any cost.

Not possible.

I threaded the first needle I’ve touched since my mom taught me to sew buttons in elementary school.

“Mom! This is so cool! I can’t believe you’re making these!” It was almost as if the girls knew how much encouragement I needed. I was sweating.

But then my in-laws stopped by and, since we all know it takes a village, Dave’s dad and sister helped me sew the rest of the ribbons to the elastic bands and glue soccer balls on top.

Now the scary part… use a lighter to singe the ends and make sure the ribbon doesn’t unravel. Once you get over the fear of burning your house down, this is actually the coolest part!

Fast forward to this morning. When the last game started, it wasn’t the same team on the field. There was something different about these girls.

“Life isn’t perfect, but my hair sure is.”

They were running faster, and standing taller. It was clearly the hair ribbons.

Look at them go!

The Golden Hawks fought hard today. But alas, they lost 3-0.

Did they spend part of the game catching raindrops in their mouths?

Yes.

Did they lose more games than any other team this season?

Yes.

I did that.

But I’ll tell you what… no team in the league had better hair than those Golden Hawks. I’m calling that a win.

Oh hey, MomInDCity readers. It’s only been an ENTIRE YEAR since I’ve written. Not much has happened. Just, you know… got pregnant and had a “boring baby,” as Zana likes to call him. “Why do babies have to be so boring??” she has asked on multiple occasions.

I don’t know, dude. How do you think I feel? I’m the one who hangs out with him all day. She also refers to “the baby” in air quotes. I have no idea what that means.

“the baby” *in air quotes

Lorik (baby #3) was born June 17 and has been making our house a total snooze-fest ever since. Not really. That would mean people were actually snoozing, and we all know that isn’t happening. Lorik has turned our lives upside down. The house is a (even more of a) disaster, there’s always someone screaming and crying—and I haven’t even gotten to the kids. They’re doing great.

Between ballet, gymnastics, running club and soccer… and more soccer… I got bored, so here I am back to blogging. The other day at ballet, a mom friend of mine said “Where’s the baby?! I’ve never seen you without him!” And for a split second, I didn’t know the answer. Had I become one of those “whoops I left the car seat on top of the car moms?” Oh wait, BeeBop (my mom) is in town. Whew.

And it’s because of that, that I currently have two free hands and am able to type. I mean, my foot is still on the bouncy seat, but it’s almost like I’m taking a break!

The magic of the bouncy chair

Where’s BeeBop, you ask? Making me look good to the PTA moms by baking up a storm for the bake sale.

It’s true, I’m superwoman.

So let’s see if this boring baby lets me write a little more often. Until then… please leave me your juggling act tips in the comment section.

If you’ve ever had a kid, other than your own, stay with you for an extended period of time, you know there always comes a moment when they miss their Mommy.

For my visiting niece, that moment came today. I almost missed it, thanks to all the screaming going on at my house full of girls. But when the sobbing lasted more than a minute and wasn’t followed by any finger pointing or tattle-taling, I knew something was wrong.

I picked her up, sat her in my lap and asked what the problem was. “I miss my Mooooooooooommmmm sob sob snort mmmyyyyy!”

After attempting to call her parents, who were both at work, I had to come up with some other way to make her smile.

I thought about what would make me feel better if I were sad… ah ha!

Cheers to feeling better!

I pulled out the fancy glasses and the red stuff (V8 Splash), and let the girls drink their sorrows away. They clinked glasses, giggled and said things like “this tastes magnificent!” Then they asked for more, and more, and more…

Glass #4– slow down, girl!

And soon, my niece’s frown turned upside down and the whole day got better. Drinking has worked for me for years now, so why wouldn’t it work for them?! College taught me so much. And these girls are already ahead of the game. What will they possibly have to learn when they get there?!

As I was catching up on email this morning, something caught my eye– several emails on the elementary school list serve discussing school uniforms.

Let’s start with my overall stance on school uniforms. Here it is: who cares?!

Now that we have that out of the way, let’s get into the email. Lira goes to a DC Public Elementary School, where school uniforms are mandated by the District. Apparently, there was a survey earlier in the year (which I ignored) asking parents at her school how they felt about adding extra color options for the uniform shirts. Right now they’re white; the survey asked parents if they’d like the option of dressing their kids in navy or light blue as well. Now parents are asking about the results of the survey.

Last day of school

This is clearly an important issue because… well, because… yeahhhhh. Why are we even talking about this???

Is the issue up for a vote? Nope.

Will the results of this survey change things once way or another? Nope.

The only people I can think of who actually should care about any of this are Wal-Mart and Target, so they can stock up.

But as usual, my gauge of what’s important to parents on the Hill is way off. Apparently, there are some very strong opinions on both sides of this issue. [Read more…]

Picture this: It takes me an hour to drive 7 miles home in bumper-to-bumper traffic. When I rush in the door, I manage to fix one girls hair while wrestling the other, WWE style, to put some clothes on. It’s 6:15 and we’re hoping to make it to the Spring concert at Lira’s school, which starts in 15 minutes.

In a moment of clarity, I stop cursing under my breath and notice how stinking adorable Zana is, sitting in her stroller with her tutu, sunglasses and cheesy grin; so I snapped this pic and put it on Instagram so the rest of the world could tell me how much they “like” it:

The Spring Concert was very cute, pretty much what you’d expect from these things. When it was over we all went out to the playground so the kids could run wear themselves out before bed.

Then it was bath time, story time, laundry time and then… work time. The fact that it’s 10 o’clock, doesn’t mean my work day is over. Thanks to a flexible schedule, I get to leave early 3 days a week and spend afternoons with the girls; but because of that, I work late in to the evenings, often times long after bedtime.

As I waited for my laptop to turn on, I checked Instagram, I noticed that among the “likes,” there was also a comment:

“Your work hours are bar none the best of anyone I will ever meet.”

It was from a former co-worker. A guy I was never particularly close with.

Because I am hot-headed, I showed this to Dave to make sure I’m not reading it wrong. “Sounds like a backhanded compliment to me. Why would he say that?”

That’s what I want to know! I went to reply to his comment but couldn’t think of anything appropriate. But here are a few of my ideas:

Some people are in the office half a day, others are in the office 15 hours a day and still can’t hack it.

I didn’t think you noticed when I worked, based on the fact that you were on Facebook 10 hours a day.

Why don’t you stop worrying about what I’m doing and go find a job

But I’m far too polite (ha). Dave thought I should remind him that I work from home at night, but I was annoyed at the thought of justifying myself to him. I decided to do nothing (well nothing but block him from my Instagram feed and unfriend him on Facebook). But I still felt bothered.

I work when the kids go to bed; I work on weekends; I’ve respond to texts from my boss Friday nat midnight and I’ve had Skype meetings well after dark. Even when I was on maternity leave, I checked my work email religiously so that I could stay up to speed. It’s on my mind constantly because my coworkers have put their trust in me, and I never want to disappoint them.

So yes, a lot of times my life looks like this…

Or this…

But I don’t take that for granted. So there! Get a job. Stop worrying about me… you lazy bum.